


Brothers

by Balerion_the_Dread22



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A slight fix-it, Catelyn is not happy, Jon joins Robb, Sibling Reunion, What I always wanted to happen in the books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balerion_the_Dread22/pseuds/Balerion_the_Dread22
Summary: Jon does not swear his vows and reunites with Robb.





	1. Catelyn

**Catelyn**

Cat watched as Robb straightened the crown atop his mane of red curls. It was an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the form of long swords. It was devoid of gemstones, silver and gold. It was crown of winter, dark and strong to withstand the cold.

Then he swept his eyes over the map, sprawled before him on the table. On either side of the table sat bee-wax candles and a silver cup, half-filled. They were alone, but Cat couldn’t find the words she wanted to say.

A day ago, Robb had sent Ser Cleos Frey to King’s Landing to inform the Lannisters about their demands, though Cat doubted Tywin would agree to these terms. _The old lion is far too prideful to accept such terms_ , Cat was sure and wound her fingers around her cup. All she could do was to pray that Arya and Sansa were safe, but the fact that Robb had sent Theon Greyjoy to Pyke didn’t help to ease her fears. They had grown up together, but Cat couldn’t bring herself to trust Theon Greyjoy.

“Robb,” she addressed him, keeping her voice as calm as possible. “May I speak?”

Robb lifted his head, his eyes of summer weary and distant.

“Please speak your mind, mother.

“You don’t have to wear the crown all the time,” she remarked in a jesting tone, trying to lighten the mood before coming to the serious part of the conversation.

“I have to get used to it, mother,” Robb told her, a smile curling on his lips. “But I doubt that was all you wanted to say…I can tell by the expression on your face.”

“No,” she confirmed and took a sip from her cup to calm her nerves.

“I wanted to speak with you about the Kingslayer,” she replied quietly and searched his face.

“The Kingslayer shall remain here,” Robb replied, his face taking a sullen expression. He looked like a child being put into his place. If he was still a little boy she would have found it amusing, but now she felt only fear. “I shan’t change my mind about that, mother. I see that you are tired…You don’t have to travel to the Stormlands if it is too much of a burden for you. I shall send someone else. Mayhaps you wish to return to Winterfell?”

“I shall return to Winterfell once I have spoken to Renly,” she informed him promptly. “But I still think you are making a grievous mistake…Tywin might have given us one of the girls in exchange for his son.

“I made my decisions clear to you, mother,” Robb replied, his voice laced with annoyance. “And I don’t doubt my words, but he would also expect me to bend my knee…I shall never bend the knee to a family that murdered my father.”

Cat knew that she had overstepped her bounds when Robb pulled the crown from his and placed it in front of her on the table.

“You know how much I value your council, mother,” he said in a hard tone, but not completely devoid of its youth. “I didn’t ask to be King, but I intend to fulfil this role as best as possible. This also means I have to make my own decisions.”

“That’s your pride speaking, my son,” she replied and was about to open her mouth to add something, but the creaking oak door interrupted their exchange.

It was Olyvar Frey, Robb’s squire. He was one of Walder Frey’s many sons, though he lacked the weak chin and the weasel face so common in his family. He was what most ladies would have called “a comely lad” and even had a rather pleasant character for a Frey. He knew his place and she had yet to hear an ill word come over his lips.

"Olyvar,” Robb said and acknowledged the boy’s presence, a smile hushing over his lips. “What can I do for you?”

“There is a visitor for you, your Grace,” the boy informed him and dipped his head. “A certain, Jon Snow.”

 _Gods be good_ , Cat thought and froze. She must have misheard, but when Robb asked the boy to repeat his words, she knew that it was true.

“It is no mistake, your Grace,” Olvyar stuttered. “The young man calls himself Jon Snow…he has a wolf like Greywind.”

 _It can’t be true_ , Cat thought, all her old fears coming back to her at once. The boy was meant to be gone from her life. He was meant to join the Night’s Watch and now he was back to torment her with his presence.

When she saw Robb’s bright smile, her fears only increased.

“Show me the way!” Robb demanded at once, rose to his feet and whistled. Greywind hopped to his feet and rushed after her son, while Cat remained behind.

Cat swallowed hard and braced herself to face this nightmare.

She found Jon Snow seated on a wooden bench, his massive wolf curled beneath his feet. He looked thinner since the last time she laid eyes on him. That was the on the day of his departure, in Bran’s sickroom…

Just thinking of it filled her with gloomy thoughts. He should have never come back here. _He needs to go._

And yet she saw Robb’s smile and how he pressed the boy to his chest. If it had been any other boy, she would have been happy for Robb.

“You look so different, brother,” Jon Snow remarked, a ghost of a smile washing over his long face. It was a face she had loved, but when she looked at the boy she only felt bitterness. “You have a beard…”

Robb laughed, his eyes overflowing with happiness as he stroked his beard. “Do you like it?”

Jon Snow nodded his head, his brown hair falling into his gaunt face. “Aye, I feel almost like a green boy compared to you.”

Robb laughed and patted Jon Snow’s shoulders. Then his eyes darted to Ghost and Greywind who were now rolling on the floor. Snow’s direwolf was littered with mud and left dirty stains on the carpet, but Robb didn’t seem to care.

“Greywind is also happy to have you back,” Robb added with a smile, but fell silent when he noticed her presence. Cat felt almost like an intruder, but someone had to speak the truth.

“Shouldn’t you be at Castle Black?” she asked Jon Snow as politely as possible.

The boy froze, his stranger eyes, meeting hers across the room.

He didn’t flinch, his jaw a tight as a bow string as he rummaged through the vest of his wet cloak. _It must have rained_ , Cat surmised.

“I left before speaking my vows, my Lady,” Jon Snow explained and unrolled the parchment. “I have the Lord Commander’s written word…I assure you…I am no deserter.”

“Of course not,” Robb added and grinned. “But it was good of you change your mind. Black might be your colour, but I have need of you here…and I missed you terribly.”

 _We have no need of you,_ she wanted to say, but bit back her comment. _Robb would never forgive me._

Thus she swallowed her pride and forced a smile over her lips.

“Snow looks tired,” she added through clenched teeth. She couldn’t say his name. To call him by his name would mean to approve of his existence. “Give him time to rest.”

Robb beamed and gave Cat a heartfelt smile.

“Jon and I shall take supper together,” Robb informed her promptly. He looked like an excited child. “We shall speak later, mother.”

Cat nodded her head and exhaled deeply. She avoided to look at Snow, least her bitterness got the better of her.

“We shall speak later, my son.”

…


	2. Jon

**Jon**

_Robb is a king_ , Jon reminded himself again as he watched his brother re-fill his cup. He it was his second one and more would probably follow. He was in a merry mood and while Jon was certainly flattered that his brother was happy about his return, he couldn’t forget the destruction he had seen on his way here to Riverrun.

He had seen burned fields, rotten corpses and pillaged villages as far as the eye could see. Once a Lannister band of two had nearly found him, but Ghost had killed the sneaky one while Jon was able to take down his companion. The day after this incident they had burned the corpses and ridden through the night.

“You should drink, brother,” Robb suggested for the tenth time. He had devoured two plates of roasted meat and mushed pumpkin, but he had no thirst for wine. “It will help to banish away your exhaustion.”

Jon gave Robb a weak smile and took a hesitant sip from his cup. The wine tasted sweet, almost heavenly, though Jon could not say what kind of wine it was. It made him only more aware what kind of life he left behind.

“It is good,” he said at last and placed the cup back on the on the table made of red wood, like so many things in this ancient castle. Riverrun was nothing compared to Winterfell, but it was still a beautiful castle. “But I rather use a bed to extinguish my exhaustion, brother.”

“I am not surprised,” Robb said and laughed, his eyes searching Jon’s. The Riverlands are no longer safe. Only a week ago, the Mountain and a band of brutes sacked Darry. They put the young Lord to the sword and I fear it will only get worse…your travel must have been dangerous.”

“I saw the destruction,” Jon replied grimly. “I heard about your battles…What will you do now that you have re-taken Riverrun?”

“I have the Kingslayer,” Robb informed Jon, his voice laced with a hint pride. “And I have given Lord Tywin my conditions, but I doubt he will agree to them. Instead he hides away in Harrenhall, waiting for Renly’s and Stannis’ next move.”

Jon nodded his head, taking in all this new information.

“What conditions did you give the Lannisters?”

“I offered to exchange our sisters in exchange for the lords and knights I took prisoner in my past battles,” he explained and cracked a smile. “I also informed King Joffrey that the North and Riverlands intend to retain their declared independence. I even sent him a re-drawn map to drive the point home.”

Going by Robb’s smile, Jon knew that he hoped for his approval.

“What about Sansa and Arya?”

Robb looked disappointed about his lack of enthusiasm.

“I already told you,” Robb replied and took a sip from his cup. “I offered to exchange them for my prisoners…” he trailed off.

“Some lords and knights,” Jon finished for him. “And as you said…Tywin Lannister will most likely not accept these conditions. Why not offer the Kingslayer?”

Robb frowned and placed the cup back on the table.

“My men would disapprove. Many of them lost their loved ones…The Kingslayer is more worth…,” he countered, but Jon couldn’t help but to cut him off.

“Than Arya and Sansa,” Jon finished for him. “Is that what you are trying to say?”

“I am a king,” Robb informed Jon. “My men expect me to defend their interests.”

“I understand that,” Jon replied and soften his stance. “But at what price? You mentioned Renly and Stannis...Do you think they will accept your kingship?”

“Mother will soon travel to the Stormlands to meet Renly,” Robb countered. “Then we will know more.”

“Why Renly?” Jon asked, longing for more information. “I heard the rumours about Joff’s illegitimacy, but isn’t Renly the younger son?”

“Aye,” Robb granted him. “But Renly is wed to Lady Margaery Tyrell. He has more support…I think he will win this struggle. In truth, a victory for Stannis or Renly would be to our advantage. Believe me, I would gladly give up my crown if it means to defeat the Lannisters, but I fear my men might rebel against such a command after all they sacrificed. That’s why intend to make Stannis and Renly beholden to me…I intend lure Tywin Lannister into a trap.”

“A trap?” Jon asked and pushed his blade away. “Would you tell me about your plans?”

“I intend to attack the Westerlands and give Tywin a taste of his own medicine. A prideful man like him won’t sit still while I plunder his lands. I am sure he will come for me…The Blackfish thinks we should pull back our troops and allow him to cross the Tumblestone. Then once he has come deep into our territory we will snap our trap. By then Renly or Stannis might have put the Lannisters to the sword or at least Tywin won’t be able stop...”

 _A fine idea_ , Jon thought, but that didn’t mean it would work. Still, what right did he have to question Robb? He had not fought at his side and all he knew about battles came from dusty books and father’s lessons. He had to prove himself first before he could question his choices. Still, his curiosity got the better of him and he decided to ask for the details.

“Who do you intend to take with you to the Westerlands? Only the Northmen? What about the lords of the Riverlands?

“Mostly Northmen,” Robb replied quickly. “The Riverlords are occupied with defending their territories. It is part of my ploy…the more incompetent we appear the better.”

“True,” Jon granted him, feeling again like the little boy who had listened to his father’s lessons. “But wouldn’t Tywin perceive you more of a threat if you also brought the lords of Riverlands?”

“Uncle Edmure wouldn’t like that,” Robb explained and shrugged his shoulders. “He fears for the small folk. I need his approval…he is after all my grandfather’s heir. And I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the real reason for allowing the Riverlords to return to their lands.”

“The Lannisters will continue to kill much more people if we lose this war,” Jon countered, but still felt a hint of shame for thinking like that. “Better a bloody end than a lost war.”

Robb frowned and leaned back in his chair.

“Your brief time in the Night’s Watch changed you brother,” Robb remarked. “Or was it father’s death?”

“Both,” Jon admitted and decided to come back to the topic at hand, not matter how uncomfortable it was for Robb to speak about it. ”You mentioned that you didn’t tell Lord Edmure your real reasons. Don’t you think that is a bit risky? Father always said… _make clear to your men what you want of them or even the best-planned battle can turn into a failure_. I have not right to tell you what to do, but I think you should inform him about your plans. He might dislike your reasons, but I doubt he would refuse your demand. He is after all; your Uncle.”

“Maybe you are right,” Robb replied, but looked sceptical. Yet Jon knew he had won him over, when his brother started to smile. “I think I will follow your advice.”

“I hope it helps,” Jon replied awkwardly. “I am here for the same reason as you. I want to revenge father and get our sisters back.”

“I know,” Robb replied, smiled warmly and leaned over to squeeze his hand. “And I hope you will accompany me to the Westerlands…” he trailed off.

Jon was not surprised by his question, but it meant much more to him than Robb could have ever known.

“Of course,” Jon replied without question and cracked a seldom smile. “But don’t expect of me to be kind to Theon. I doubt he will like my return.”

“You don’t have to fret about that,” Robb assured him and grinned. “Theon left for Pyke to forge an allegiance against the Lannisters.”

Jon froze and tried to hide his disbelief.

“Surely, you are jesting with me, brother?”

“Why would I be jesting about that?” Robb asked and wrinkled his brows. “Theon fought with me. He is as much as a brother to me as you. He deserves my trust.”

“I don’t doubt Theon’s valour in battle,” Jon replied grudgingly. He felt the sting of jealousy now that he realized that Theon had stood at Robb’s side in every past battle. I was such a fool. “But you know how weak-willed he can be…a wink of a pretty girl is enough to sway his mind. What if his father manipulates him against you…,” Jon continued, even willing to ride after Theon to get him back if necessary, but Robb’s grim face made him realize that he overstepped his bounds. “I understand…It is just…I never liked him, you know that.”

Robb nodded his head and exhaled deeply.

“I know that, brother, but you have to trust me with this.”

…


	3. Robb

**Robb**

The sky was red like blood, the sun hanging on the horizon like a boiled egg. Dusk was close and soon the night would be upon them.

Carefully, Robb lifted the flap of his tent and stepped outside, Greywind following after him.

The smell of smoke and roasted meat filled his nose as he stepped through the camp. He saw men gathering their weapons, page boys running last errands and men tending to their horses.

Jon was not far, Ghost curled beneath a crooked nut tree. He looked much better in his new armour. _You are not a man of the Night’s Watch anymore_ , Robb had told him not long ago and was able to convince Jon to change his black garb. He wore a grey cloak, like most men of the Wolf’s Guard, the wolf embellished on his cloak white as snow, the swapped colours of a bastard.

“Are you ready for a bit of climbing, brother?” Robb asked jestingly. He felt the need to lighten the mood, before the impending battle. A few days ago Robb had accompanied Jon, Dacey Mormont and a handful of Umber and Hornwood men to scout the landscape for a way to circumvent the Golden Tooth. A day ago they had returned and had indeed found a way or better said Greywind and Ghost had found a goat track leading through a hilly landscape covered with a thick forest. It was the perfect cover for their army, though this also meant that a long night was lying ahead of them

Jon’s pale lips twisted into a smile.

“And you, brother?” Jon replied. “Ready to kill lions?”

“Aye, we shall kill the lions,” Robb confirmed and patted Greywind’s head. His mother had been most displeased by Jon’s return, so much even Robb could see, though she was good at hiding it. _She is trying for my sake_ , he knew but had no intention to send Jon away. Having him here at his side helped to calm his strained nerves.

“There you are, your Grace,” the Blackfish’s voice interrupted their exchange. He was already mounted on his horse, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. Robb wished he had his calm demeanour. “We should move out or we might lose our chance. Rumours say that Ser Stafford Lannister still sits beneath Oxcross to train his host of green boys. If we are lucky we can surprise them and if we are unlucky we will find ourselves in enemy territory face to face with an army that outnumbers ours. We should send out outriders before leaving the forest behind us. Once the path is free we can send out the vanguard to lead the attack. The rest of the man can join the battle once the killing has begun.”

Robb nodded his head and smiled at the Blackfish.

“I assume you intend to lead the vanguard?”

“Aye,” the Blackfish confirmed. “That’s the plan, your Grace.”

“I would like to join the Blackfish,” Jon added and picked up his helmet, his dark gaze flickering back to Robb. “If you don’t mind…” he trailed off.

“Of course,” Robb confirmed and shifted his attention back to the Blackfish. “I also intend to join you…I know you disapprove, Grand-Uncle, but I don’t want to hide away like a craven.”

“You are the King,” the Blackfish replied and dipped his head. Then she craned his neck to look at Jon, before leading his horse away.

“A bastard, but least no craven,” he heard the Blackfish mutter as he left his horse away.

By the time they had packed up the camp the sky had changed to a navy blue colour, the first stars flickering on the distant horizon.

As expected, their movement was slow as they led their horses over the narrow path, meandering its way through the thick forest. Twigs snapped into their faces and roots grasped for them as they stamped through the mud. It must have rained, because the ground was soft and wet, though that was the least of Robb’s fear. His greatest fear was to be detected by the enemy.

Hours passed and the night had fallen when they reached the top of the mountain, giving a breath-taking view over the landscape. A motely of green, yellow and red spread as far as the eye could see, the first signs of autumn. Further off in the distance he noticed a glittering band of water, the Green Fork, or mayhaps the Tumblestone.

“We did it,” Robb told Jon and Dacey Mormont. “The way down should be easier.”

“I hope so, your Grace,” the young woman replied and brushed the sweat from her brow. “May the gods grand us a pleasant descent and another victory.”

“I rather not depend on the gods,” Jon added, voice muffled by his helmet. “Especially, in enemy territory.”

“I have no need of gods!” the Greatjon exclaimed. “My sword is all I need!”

The man’s boisterous comments never failed to fill the men with confidence and soon most of them forgot about the difficult climb. As Dacey had hoped, the descent proved much easier, and it didn’t take more than a few hours, before they reached the bottom of the mountain.

As planned they sent out outriders while the rest of their men remained hidden in the forest.

The proved colder than expected, a fresh breeze stirring the leaves of the trees and the grass beneath his feet. Robb advised his men to rest as much as possible, but it was hard to keep awake when the world around them was dark. The sky was clear, but the moonlight penetrating the thick canopy was sparse.

Robb didn’t know how it had happened, but he must have fallen asleep. It was the touch of Greywind’s wet tongue on hi cheek that roused him from his sleep.

“Oi, the outriders have returned!” the Greatjon grumbled happily.

“The path is clear, your Grace,” one of the outriders announced with a smile. “There are no sentries…we should attack tonight.”

Robb nodded his head in understanding and smiled as he spotted Jon, excitement and fear rushing through his body as he mounted his horse. The Blackfish and Stevron Frey joined them soon after and the vanguard was ready to depart.

It was time to fight.

What the outriders had told him was true. The camp was unguarded, the lines of horses bared to the world like an open invitation.

“We should cut the lines and free the horses,” Jon suggested. “That could cause disarray.”

Robb liked the idea and brushed his hand through Greywind’s fur. He sat beside him, his eyes fixed on the enemy camp. Ghost stood on his four paws, his head raised and his mouth open.

“I think Ghost and Greywind should join us, don’t you think?” Robb asked Jon.

“You shouldn’t endanger yourself like this...,” Jon protested, but Robb wanted to hear none of it. “I shall be fine. Once the camp is in disarray the Greatjon will join us with the cavalry. I don’t think this battle will take long. Most of them will try to flee.”

“As you say, your Grace,” Jon replied, his voice laced with displeasure.

Soon they were so close to the camp that they could hear the whispering of men and could smell the smoke of the cookfires, but nobody stopped them as they freed the horses.

Greywind and Ghost didn’t hesitate bolt after them, driving them towards the camp.

Their actions achieved the intended goal. The enemy was so surprised that most of them weren’t even able to salvage a weapon before they descended upon them. They were only about three-hundred men, but the enemy was already fleeing when the Greatjon joined them. Those who stayed were either killed or captured.

By morning Oxcross was theirs and they had captured several prestigious hostages, among them Ser Lymond Vikray, Lord Roland Crakehall, Lord Antario Jast, two of his sons and a good dozen other highborn hostages, though Robb had hoped to capture Ser Stafford Lannister, but in the end they found his trampled body among the men that had put up the last resistance. Instead they had captured Martyn Lannister and Willam Lannister, mere boys, but still cousins to King Joffrey.

“It is done, your Grace,” Lord Rickard Karstark announced when he joined Robb, the Greatjon, Lady Maege Mormont, the Blackfish and Galbert Glover. “Oxcross is ours…and the path is free towards Ashmark and the Crag.

“I intend to take the main host to besiege Ashmark and we shall move on to the Crag. My Uncle the Blackfish shall accompany me.” Robb explained as his eyes wandered over the map spread before him on the table. Then he lifted his head and searched Lord Karstark’s face. “And I want you and Lord Glover to raid along the western coast.”

Then he craned his neck and looked at Lady Maege Mormont.

“And you, my Lady. I want you to take a small force to gather any livestock you can find and drive it back to the Riverlands,” he added and grinned at the Greatjon. “And you may capture Lord Tywin’s priced goldmines, my Lord Umber.”

The Greatjon howled with laughed, obviously very pleased with this task.

“A fine idea!”

“Indeed,” Lord Glover agreed.

“I shall do as you ask, your Grace,” Maege Mormont promised and graced him with a smile. “Dacey will keep the rest of my men in check.”

“I don’t doubt that, my Lady,” Robb replied and returned her smile. Then he shifted his attention back to Lord Rickard Karstark, who had yet to show a hint of approval. His mood had been more than grim since he had lost three of his sons, but Robb tried his best to hide his worry.

“Did you hear what I said, Lord Karstark?”

“Aye,” the old man replied and lowered his head. “I shall do as you say, your Grace.”

After everything was said and done, Robb set out to find Jon. Not much to Robb’s surprise he found him in company of Dacey Mormont and Olyvar Frey.

Dacey sat beside the fire and prodded it with a twig while Olyvar was sharpening his blade: He looked sad, his eyes red-rimmed. Jon was also sharpening his blade, Ghost curled beneath his feet.

“You look tired,” Jon remarked, a smile curling on his lips. “Did they disapprove of your plans?”

“No,” Robb replied. “But Lord Rickard Karstark continues to look at me as if I personally insulted him. I regret what happened to his sons…I liked them.”

“I liked them too,” Jon replied. “But that’s the way of war. He has no right to blame you for their deaths. Father would have said the same.”

Robb nodded his head and shifted his attention back to Olyvar Frey. He held not much love for the Freys, but their men had fought at their sight and soon he will be wed to one of them if old Walder Frey had his will.

“I am sorry for your loss, Olyvar,” Robb replied and patted the boy’s shoulder. “I quite liked your brother.”

Olyvar nodded his head and brushed his tears away.

“My brother Stevron was the best of us,” the young man stuttered. “I shall burn him on the morrow and sent his ashes home.”

“Do that,” Robb replied and met Jon’s gaze. They also had a father to bury. “Best do it tonight. I will send you men to help you build a pyre. We shall depart on the morrow…onwards to Ashmark.”

…


	4. Jon

**Jon**

“Move your lame ass, Olly! We are falling asleep!” one of the Frey men complained behind them. Jon stopped, and turned around, the narrow path preventing any quick movement. The darkness and the smell was even worse, but that was to be expected as they had spent the last hours moving along the sewer system.

The sacking of the town located beneath Castle Ashmark proved quick and bloody, but Ashmark had high and fortified walls. The garrison supposedly counted no more than thirty men and Lord Marbrand was presumably missing or so the frightened smallfolk had informed them.

Robb didn’t waste any time to besiege the castle and only a day later an angered man came to see them. He was a former servant of the castle and swore that one of Lord of Marbrand’s cousins had raped and defiled his daughter. He had also informed them that he would be pleased to show them the way inside if they were prepared to give them the head of the lordling that committed this vile deed.

Robb had been hesitant to believe the man, but the first failed assault had changed his brother’s mind. On the same night his brother had asked the man to return and explain his plan.

 _Through the sewer system, your Grace_ , the man had explained. _I can show you the way if it pleases you._

Eager to move on to the Crag, Robb had agreed to the man’s offer. Now they were here, said man walking in front of Jon and guarded by two Hornwood men.

The man’s name was Gareth and Jon was sure he knew what would happen to him if he betrayed them. _We will cut your throat and rape your wife_ , the Frey men had threatened more than once. Jon wondered how they intended to accomplish such a feat when they ended up dead, but then most of the Frey Lords were either plain stupid or brutes. Olyvar was one of the few exceptions, but then he was said to come more after his mother, a Rosby.

“I apologize,” the young man stuttered and would have kissed the ground had Jon not caught his arm in time. “I didn’t mean to keep us…”

“All is well,” Jon assured him, though his pounding heart reminded him of the danger lying ahead of them. They were no more than twenty men, but Jon was determined to make it work. _Stop pissing yourself_ , he chided himself and forced a smile over his lips, to encourage the slightly older man. “We are nearly there…Can you feel the cool breeze?”

“I smell only shit,” grumbled the Frey man that had insulted Olyvar. “Mayhaps you are only dreaming, bastard.”

Jon shook his head and realized that it was useless to speak to these fools. It would be like trying to teach reading to a bunch of pigs, though he had to admit they looked more like weasels.

“We are nearly there,” the man named Gareth promised and led them down a narrow, sloping path. They had to press themselves against the walls to pass, but once they had managed to do that, the path grew wider and they reached a cavernous room. The smell was better here, but Jon was glad when they left the sewers behind them.

_I am going to drown myself in a river once this is done._

They had to climb another staircase that swirled around the wall like a spiral until they finally reached a door, which supposedly led out to the courtyard.

“The guards are armed with crossbows and spears,” Gareth informed them as he unlocked the door for them. Ever carefully, he opened the door and stepped outside. He moved along the wall and poked his head around the corner, before he shifted his attention back to them.

“No guards in sight,” the man informed them promptly and waved his hand. “They must be sitting at the ramparts.”

Jon could have realized that without the man’s help, because even here they could hear the shouts of men and the snapping of arrows beyond the walls. As they moved around the corner they also heard the pounding sound of wood against wood. _Robb’s knocking at their doors_ , he knew and freed his blade.

The others did the same. Some carried swords, some arrows and some crossbows, but it didn’t matter in the end. What the smallfolk had told them turned out to be true. No more than thirty men guarded the castle. Ten or fifteen manned each side of the walls protecting the main gate and unleashed their arrows on the men below.

“Over there is a staircase to get up to the ramparts,” the man informed them and smiled.

“Stay here,” Jon asked of Olyvar Frey, who was trembling like a leaf. “To protect our guide.”

“Aye,” Olyvar confirmed. “I shall do as you say.”

“Poor Olly!” one of the Frey whispered teasingly. “You are going to miss all the fun.”

Jon frowned and jerked his head at the steps leading up to the ramparts.

“We should split up,” Jon added and received only more sour looks. Most of them hated that Robb had put them under his command. To them he was nothing more than a bastard, but then Jon didn’t give a flying fuck what this brood of weasels thought of him. Besides, the Hornwood men liked him just fine and nodded their heads in unison.

“The Northmen will go with me,” Jon informed the Frey brood. “And the Frey men are welcome to attack the other wall.”

“Good idea, bastard,” Olyvar’s tormentor replied and moved out. Jon and his men followed close, climbing up the staircase. Their first men fell to Jon’ blade before he was able to lift his crossbow, the bolt falling to the ground. The man soon collapsed like a puppet without strings, but the next enemy proved much faster. Jon had to duck, the bolt darting of his head as he buried his blade in the man’s guts. The blade didn’t go through, but a quick shove down the stairs solved his problem. The next one was armed with a halberd, but even that was no use against two men cornering him at once. The last two soon realized that any further fighting was unnecessary and dropped their weapons after Jon had promised them mercy.

Soon the Frey men moved out to open the gates while Jon and the Hornwood men entered the castle. They encountered several servants who didn’t put up much of a fight, but they still had to search the entire castle until they found Lord Marbrand’s kin. Jon counted four women, twelve girls and three boys.

“No harm shall come to you,” Jon assured them and asked his men to stay their blades. “The castle is ours…you are now our honoured hostages.”

Then he shifted his attention to the only two grown men. One was thin and bare-headed, his blue eyes wide in fear. The other one was young, though quite ugly. His hair was greasy and his teeth rotten, the smell nauseating even from the distance.

“Did one of these two rape your girl?” he asked Gareth, who had joined them only moments ago in company of Olyvar Frey.

“Aye,” Gereth confirmed and pointed at the one with the rotten teeth. “This one raped my little girl.”

“That’s a lie!” the man countered, his eyes wide in fear. “The girl was a whore…she offered herself to me.”

“You dare to slander, my poor girl!” Gareth snarled and had to be held back by the Hornwood men. “You…you…”

“Peace, good man!” Jon exclaimed and gave the man a piercing look. “King Robb promised you justice and justice you shall have. He shall be hanged on the morrow.”

"He deserves a far worse death,” Gareth complained angrily, but Jon shook his head. “I betrayed my people for you!”

“That’s not for me to decide,” Jon replied, trying to appease him, before he left to join the others.

By the time he arrived in the courtyard Robb had entered the castle, his face covered in sweat and grime.

“Well done,” Robb said and patted Jon’s shoulder while taking in his appearance. Then he wrinkled his nose at the smell. “Did you find any of Lord Marbrand’s kin?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed. “But the Lord is gone…the smallfolk told us the truth. I will show them to you, but I am in dire need of a bath.”

Robb laughed and nodded his head in confirmation.

“Aye, that you are.”

Jon didn’t even inquire for a bath and went down to the brook, running below the town into the woods. Most of the men who had accompanied him had the same idea and soon he stood in the cold water, trying to wash off the smell of shit and piss.

“I wonder if it’s true what they say about the Lannisters?” one of the Hornwood men asked in a jesting tone. “Do you think they really shit gold?”

“We should crawl through the sewers of Casterly Rock to find out,” the other one replied and howled with laughter.

“I doubt we are going to Casterly Rock anytime soon, eh?” a familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. It was Dacey Mormont, an amused smile curling on her lips. She was a pleasant looking girl, though much older than him. There was something enticing about her bright smile and in the way she handled her axe. _Arya would love her_ , Jon was sure, but averted his gaze when he realized that her upper tunic was wet. She must have taken a bath like him.

“I doubt it, my Lady,” he replied and felt an uncomfortable stirring in his breeches when he noticed her nipples shining through the white tunic. “It is impossible to take that castle without a proper fleet and I doubt Theon Greyjoy will be able to bring one in time.” _If ever_ , Jon felt tempted to add, but kept his true thoughts to himself.

“True,” she agreed and grinned. “Care to join me for a cup of wine?”

Jon couldn’t help but to blush, but he had no reason to deny her.

“Why not,” he agreed hesitatingly and dipped his head. “But I need to dress first.”

The rest of the night he spent in company of Lady Mormont’s men. They took great pleasure in drowning themselves in Lord Marbrand’s wine, though Dacey Mormont herself contented herself with a single cup of wine. Jon drank two and watched in great amusement how two men started a drinking competition that only ended after both competitors had collapsed under the table.

“I prefer ale,” Dacey informed him later, her axe placed on the table beside her. “Wine makes my head squirm.”

“Me too,” he agreed, his eyes darting to the axe and then back to Dacey Mormont.

She grinned at him and moved closer. “You met my Grand-Uncle, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” Jon replied hesitatingly, her warm breath brushing against his cheek. Again he felt the familiar stirring in his groin. He grabbed the table, but it didn’t help when her black hair curled over her shoulder. “I met him, but I have no illusion about his thoughts about me…the boy who shunned his duty.”

Dacey chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “Are you always so grim, Jon Snow?”

“I am not grim,” he defended himself, though it was no lie.

“Aye, you are,” she replied, grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him. Jon had never kissed a proper girl, though he technically knew what to do. Yet all these thoughts were soon forgotten when her soft lips parted his and her tongue brushed against his. Jon gasped and returned the kiss, allowing himself to drown in the sensations.

Then, suddenly she pulled away, a mischievous grin spreading over her lips.

“Do you want more?”

Jon backed away and nearly stumbled over the chair.

“I cannot…you are a highborn lady…and I am,” he stuttered, but fell silent when she started to laugh.

“We of Bear Island are a strange breed, Jon Snow,” she informed him promptly. “My father was a bear…I fear no bastard or any sort of beast, but I shan’t force you…It was merely an offer.”

“It is not that I don’t want to,” he admitted and straightened himself back to his feet. “But I might get you with child…I don’t want to father a bastard.”

Dacey’s gaze softened and she leaned closer to touch his cheek.

“I can assure you… I am not very fond of babes. You have nothing to fear in that regard.”

Jon couldn’t believe his luck, though he didn’t want appear too obvious as his eyes darted back to her breasts and then to her lips.

“Well…if it is no mother for you…I would like to accept your offer.”

“Splendid!” Dacey replied and grabbed his arm, pulling him down the stairs. They had to fight their way through a crowd of drunken men, towards the camp that stretched below the castle walls. Jon could have requested a place in the castle, but he quite like the idea of losing his maidenhead beneath an open sky. _At least Theon would finally stop teasing him about it. If he ever returns…_

That Dacey Mormont knew what she was doing made it all the more pleasant. Her kisses stirred something inside him he had wanted to bury, but once her nimble fingers started to stroke his cock he forgot even that. The few weeks in the Night’s Watch were brushed away from his mind as if they had never existed. She allowed him to touch her too and Jon marvelled how soft the breasts of a woman felt. That she liked it when he kissed them encouraged him only more and soon she was beneath him, her naked body pressed against his. She was no maid, so much was clear to him, when he slipped inside her.

Theon had always told him how good it felt to bury oneself in a woman and this one time he found himself agreeing with him. Jon lost all sense and feeling as he rutted inside her until he was spent, soft moans spilling form her mouth.

“You were a maid, weren’t you?” Dacey asked him later, as they lay beneath the stars.

“How did you know?

“You were so quick and eager,” she explained and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “But I liked it. You may visit me again if you wish.”

Jon tried to make sense of this woman in front of him.

“May I ask you a question?” he asked hesitatingly and smoothed his hand over her shoulder. “You said you don’t like babes…and you are still unwed…Why is that?”

She grinned and braced herself on his chest.

“Men are bothersome creatures. I like you Jon Snow, but I have no intention to get wed. I may be my mother’s heir, but my sister Alysane has already birthed two cubs that can follow after me and my Lady Mother. No, I prefer to be free,” she explained and touched his cheek. “Does that make sense to you, Jon Snow?”

It did, though most ladies would disagree with Dacey Mormont. Jon didn’t care and lifted his head to kiss her again.

He accepted what Dacey was prepared to give.

…


End file.
